


A Place That Looks Like Home

by sirsable



Series: What am I doing?!: MCU Kink Bingo 2017 edition [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, M/M, MCU kink bingo 2017, Maybe a little fluff?, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Smut, Some angst, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirsable/pseuds/sirsable
Summary: They’d discussed it in an abstract way. Well, Wanda had interfaced better with the technology and explained the options to Bucky. Wakanda leads the world in so many technologies, and virtual reality seems to be one of them. He can’t be physically freed yet, but having a third-party ‘room’ to exist in, apart from the sometimes-hell of his own mind, is something he’d taken only slightly reluctantly. Steve was going to jump in, ready or not, and Bucky trusted T’Challa plenty. It’s different thinking of it in theory and actually living it, though.





	A Place That Looks Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly sat on this for weeks, trying to figure out how to end it and if I was even doing it right. Hopefully not too many mistakes, but if you find some please tell me. Fulfills my MCU Kink Bingo 2017 card space O-4: Sex in Virtual Reality. I'd never even considered doing something like this before, so when I saw it I was like !!!!

When he wakes up, he rolls over and sees Bucky, and it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s handsome in a way that he hasn’t been in… well, decades technically. Hair just a little too long, starting to curl at the ends and in complete disarray. Undershirt riding up his lean muscles, because it’s one of those rare days that the tenement isn’t boiling hot or freezing cold, and their ratty blanket is hanging half off his side even though the brunet insists that it’s _Steve_ who hogs it all. He’s not as bulky as the last time Steve saw him, more svelte somehow, like an in-between of his Bucky and the one that Hydra spat back out. The metal arm is there, but the star is conspicuously missing. The best part is that Bucky looks peaceful for once, face relaxed in sleep. And Steve… Steve doesn’t hurt at all. No ache in his lower back from the twist in his spine, no breathlessness plaguing his lungs. Even his heart beats steady and strong, and his eyesight isn’t blurred. It’s amazing, how he thinks of himself when it's only in his own head. He rolls closer and presses his forehead to Bucky’s shoulder, silently hoping the other man will wake up soon.

His prayers are answered when Bucky stirs, rolling over and tugging Steve close to his chest automatically. He buries his nose in Steve’s blond hair and wuffles in his sleep, pressing his face in closer when Steve tucks himself more firmly into Bucky’s arms. He wants to capture this moment forever, because this is so perfect and he never thought he’d have this again, being wrapped up like something precious in Bucky’s strong arms.

“Buck?”

“Five minutes, Stevie.”

And that’s such a purely _Bucky_ thing to say that Steve wants to cry a little. He blinks hard and gives Bucky til’ he counts to three hundred before nudging him again. “C’mon, Buck. I’m not really sure how long we can stay.”

“Stay? We late?” He’s not completely awake yet, words slurred with sleep, but Steve understands him well enough.

“What do you want to do today?” he whispers.

Bucky’s eyes finally slit open, and his face lights up when he sees Steve. “Worked, did it?”

“This time, yeah.”

Bucky’s face falls. “How many times ‘d’jya have to try to get this running?”

“Just a few,” Steve soothes. “Do you remember any of them?” Steve does. The failed attempts, the endless darkness or livid memories looping again and again, or the nausea from coming back up too soon. And one memorable moment where he accidentally started living the plot to Alice in Wonderland.

“Nah. Just the first time and then… this.”

They’d discussed it in an abstract way. Well, Wanda had interfaced better with the technology and explained the options to Bucky. Wakanda leads the world in so many technologies, and virtual reality seems to be one of them. He can’t be physically freed yet, but having a third-party ‘room’ to exist in, apart from the sometimes-hell of his own mind, is something he’d taken only slightly reluctantly. Steve was going to jump in, ready or not, and Bucky trusted T’Challa plenty. It’s different thinking of it in theory and actually living it, though.

“Huh.” Bucky sits up and looks around. “You think he’d give us somewhere nicer than our old flat.”

Steve lets himself flop back onto the bed for a moment before sitting up and wrapping both thin arms around one of Bucky’s. “Doesn’t work like that. Far as I can understand it, this is kind of… how we think of things? Inside our heads. I guess we both think of this place as home. Safe, you know?”

Bucky’s mouth flattens into a thin line for a moment, but slowly he nods. Then his gaze sharpens and he looks down to take stock of himself. His hair swings in the way, and he pushes it back with the metal hand and grimaces. “I guess I’m still stuck with this. Why… huh. What happened to the other half of you, Stevie?” he tries to joke. 

“I guess this is how I think of myself. You know, inside. Never did get used to being taller than you. I mean, more than three quarters my life this size… some things stick. I can see fine, though. And breathe. Those were always the best parts about the serum, after being able to help. I wonder if that means I’m still strong?” He looks down at his hands contemplatively.

Bucky goes dead quiet and leaves the bed, hunting down his old shaving mirror. It’s exactly where they expect it to be, tucked away in a chest by the basin. “I look… younger.”

“Yeah, Buck. We both do.” Steve paces forward until he can see a sliver of his own reflection, tucking one hand around Bucky’s waist.

“Still got the scars, though,” he says quietly. His arm whirrs as he flexes it subconsciously. “Still got Hydra branded all over me. Guess they’re really part of me, huh?”

Steve grabs his arm quickly. “ _No_. Well, maybe. This is part of you now. I guess a bigger part than we thought, but that’s fine. You’re different; I’m different. Parts of you are… are gone.” His voice breaks and Bucky politely pretends he doesn’t hear it, turning to take Steve in both arms instead. “But you’re still here. And whatever you’ve put together here… That’s one-hundred percent you, Buck.”

“Sayin’ I think of myself as Frankenstein’s monster?” His joke falls a little flat.

“I’m sayin’ that what I see is Bucky Barnes. All of ‘im, and every part of ‘im is more wonderful that the last. The parts I always knew was there and the parts I only found later, and all the ones in between. No matter if you have your Mama’s eyes or Hydra’s tech, you’re not just bits and pieces of other people. You’re _you_.”

“That why you don’t look like Captain America?” Bucky is lashing out and they both know it, but it still stings a little. Steve supposes he was asking for it, though.

“Probably. I only ever wanted to help, and then… Everything.”

Bucky’s fingers tilt his chin up, and Steve returns his gaze boldly. The other man’s expression goes soft and sad. “Your eyes. They’re like they were last time I saw you, Stevie.” Not so much fire as burning ice, Bucky thinks. He misses the anger. He never thought he’d miss Steve being angry, but the terrible sense of duty that hangs around him permanently now is so much worse. He takes all of it personally, and it shows. The ice is as much a part of him as the arm is of Bucky. Then Steve turns his head and Bucky’s breath stutters in his chest.

The shield. Etched into his skin, just below the nape of his neck, the shield is all but branded into Steve’s flesh. It stands out bold and deep, but Steve doesn’t seem to know it’s there. They’re both carrying something they’ll never escape, it seems.

“So how do they do all this brain stuff?” Bucky asks after a long pause. It’s the only thing he can think of to say to fill the silence. “They watch us on a screen or something? Like a flick?”

“Nah.” Steve wanders into the living space while he talks, looking around curiously. From what he understands, their surroundings will be some compromise between the two of them. It seems they both remember their old flat pretty strongly, although it’s a mix of the one they had just before shipping out and the first one they ever moved into together. The sink is the one from ‘40, but the windows have an open view they hadn’t had since ‘36. “I think the sensor can pick up some emotions, though. To make sure things don’t go bad, you know?”

He feels Bucky slide up behind them. The brunet leans in until his mouth is right next to Steve’s ear as he snakes his arms around the smaller man. “Emotions, huh? So they might be able to tell if you like _this_?” His tongue flicks out to suck Steve’s earlobe into his mouth for a light nibble. He can feel the blond’s full-body shiver, and Bucky suppresses a grin. If they’ve only got a limited amount of time like this, he intends to make it count.

“Maybe,” Steve husks. “I-I think—”

“You can still think? Then I must not be doing my job right.” Bucky moves down to place sucking kisses on Steve’s neck, making the blond drop his head forward with a moan.

“You can’t be serious, Buck…”

“You said they can’t see us.” He wraps his arms around the other man, pulling him tight and gripping his slender waist. “For all they know, you’re eating a really great piece of cake.”

“Cake?!” Steve gasps as Bucky reaches up to pinch at his nipples. He gives up fighting the urge to grind back on his lover to feel how hard he is. The answer is _very_. Bucky is _very_ hard. “Th’ hell kinda cake…”

“I dunno, you taste pretty sweet to me, doll.” Bucky grins and sucks a dark mark into the crook of Steve’s neck as the other man groans at the double entendre. It bleeds into a moan of pleasure, and damn if that doesn’t go right to Bucky’s dick. “Lemme taste you,” he whispers darkly.

Steve can only whimper and nod. His head reels when Bucky twists him until they’re facing each other, both hands flesh-warm but the metal one odd and erotically smooth. Christ, he hasn’t been manhandled since… well, since Bucky, which is either six years or seventy years ago, depending on how you count it. He’d almost forgotten how much it turns him on, despite also hating the feeling of being small his whole life. It’s different when he chooses it, he thinks. Or maybe it’s only different when it’s Bucky, who’s never looked down on him or felt sorry for Steve’s poor state. Bucky, who was always so handsome and put-together, everything a young man in the ‘30s and ‘40s should be, that Steve never was. Bucky, who still gets on his knees in front of Steve like he’s worshipping at an altar, not even stopping to pull the blond’s pants all the way off before swallowing him down—

“Oh God. Oh _God_!” Steve chokes out. Either he’s forgotten how good Bucky is at blowjobs, or they both remember him better than he really is, but the feeling of Bucky’s lips, soft and plush and perfect, and the massage of tongue on Steve’s shaft have him shaking at the knees almost immediately. Bucky has the audacity to wink when he draws back, barely giving Steve time for his own breather before Bucky takes him even deeper than before. He sucks cock like he’s starved for it, making lewd noises in the back of his throat. Steve tries not to lock his legs, curling his hands protectively around Bucky’s head. Not controlling him, just touching him, grounding them both. Bucky hums his approval and tightens Steve’s grip in his hair and…

Steve is fucking into Bucky’s mouth before he realizes it. It’s incredibly rude and for a moment he makes to pull away, but then Bucky’s hands palm his ass and shove him further, until Steve can feel the softness of the back of Bucky’s throat, the brunet so eager for it that he’s choking himself on Steve’s cock. Then he starts in earnest, letting Bucky cede control, grabbing dark locks to hold his partner steady. He can see Bucky blinking rapidly, trying to focus on getting Steve off. Steve wonders for a moment if he’ll be able to go more than once in this weird virtual world they’ve been given—his refractory period since the serum has been embarrassingly short, whereas before it had been embarrassingly long. He decides that it’s safe to think he’ll be somewhere in the middle now, so if he wants to get Bucky off too, he’d better spend some time calming down.

Bucky chases him with his mouth when Steve pulls him firmly but gently by the hair. His grey eyes are blown wide, and it takes him a second to focus, chest heaving and tongue licking sinfully at his lips.

“Why’d we stop?” Bucky’s gaze skitters back to Steve’s erection, but then his expression suddenly shutters. “Did I do something wrong? Too fast? I—we can—”

Well that certainly takes care of Steve being too close to the edge. “Buck! God, no. I’d _say_ something, wouldn’t I, jerk?” His thumb traces Bucky’s bottom lip, gentle in contrast to his words.

“I dunno. You’re a stubborn punk,” Bucky mutters rebelliously. Assured, he sneaks his hands back towards Steve’s crotch. “So then what is it?”

“As tempting as your mouth is—” Bucky grins proudly, just as Steve knew he would, “—I’d really love to pin you to the mattress. Ride you rough like I always wanted. Neighbors can’t hear now, can they?” Steve’s voice drops low and soft, so that Bucky is forced to sway closer just to hear. As soon as he processes the words, the brunet is on his feet and hauling Steve into his arms. Steve’s wiggled out of his shirt and has Bucky’s half-off by the time they make it back to the bed. Considering that the apartment consists of only the kitchen/living room and a curtain that pretends it’s a door to the bedroom, their speed is quite impressive.

When they hit the bed, though, Bucky takes one look into Steve’s eyes and knows it’s going to be different. Steve doesn’t get like this often, not in bed, but the gleam in his eye says that Bucky isn’t really in charge anymore. He can fight it. Just a few words will make it all stop. Not even in a bad way—all he has to do is get firm and kiss just right, and Steve will either stop to talk about it or take Bucky’s lead instead. It’s what makes this all work for them. Bucky wants it fast and rough, and Steve promised… well, half that, if Bucky plays back Steve’s words from earlier. But it’s enough for now. He allows Steve to jostle him into place; lets the blond work off his pants and shorts and fuss over the placement of pillows before reaching down under the bed for the tub of petroleum jelly traditionally stashed there.

“Oh. Nice.” Steve hefts a slim black plastic bottle onto the mattress. Bucky peers at it curiously—it doesn’t _look_ like Vaseline. “My favorite lube.” Steve settles with his legs spread wide over Bucky’s waist, tilted forward just enough to give himself access to his own hole.

“You have a favorite lube?” Bucky arches an eyebrow in amusement.

Steve blushes and stutters until Bucky laughs at the expression on his face, reeling him in for a kiss that Steve quickly wrests control of. Bucky moans into the kiss, and then again when he hears the faint _snick_ of the bottle opening and feels Steve’s arm start a rhythmic motion that tells him that the blond is opening himself up. He reaches up blindly until he can rub at Steve’s hole, too, the tip of his first finger slipping in with surprising ease. _Fuck_ Steve is ready for him.

“Oh, so _now_ you appreciate it?” Steve’s words are drawling and sarcastic, but his gaze is full of heated love. Bucky opens his mouth to volley back, but just then Steve leans in to attack his neck, and all that comes out is a ragged gasp. He can feel Steve squirt a generous amount of lube into his hand, using his own to spread it across Bucky’s fingers. Then he releases the brunet, wiping his hand on the sheets before reaching up to cup Bucky’s jaw. Bucky loves getting Steve ready, and it seems the blond remembers that. He wriggles and writhes, thrusting down on Bucky’s fingers easily as another is added. When Bucky is three deep, he moves his thumb and presses down just behind Steve’s balls and—

Steve’s teeth clamp down on Bucky’s neck, sharp and hard with the shock of pleasure that runs through him. Bucky does it again, but to his disappointment Steve manages to loosen his jaw this time, grazing his shoulder instead. Steve’s breathing comes harsh and fast, and Bucky feels a flash of worry until he realizes that Steve isn’t wheezing or struggling for breath. Feeling bold, he curls his fingers until Steve’s gasp tells him that he’s found his mark.

Steve curses under his breath and carefully rears up, dragging his fingers down Bucky’s chest just to watch the pink of his light scratches there. Bucky arcs his chest up, letting Steve smooth his palms over his pectorals before rubbing firmly at his nipples. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s stopped stretching his lover, but by then Steve is shoving his hand away and his chest back down onto the mattress. Bucky hesitates before he cleans his hand on the sheets. They haven’t spent much time of prepping Steve at all, and from what Bucky remembers before the war, Steve was always pretty tight.

Apparently, Steve can read the source of the conflict on Bucky’s face, because he leans in and gives the brunet a sweet kiss. As innocent as you please, he smiles and says, “Don’t worry—I want it to burn,” and doesn’t wait for the punched-out moan Bucky looses before slicking up the brunet’s dick and lowering himself onto it. He rocks back and forth carefully, taking Bucky quickly in bit by bit. Bucky trembles with the effort of keeping still, even when Steve sits flush against his pelvis and grinds hard and dirty, capturing Bucky’s mouth in an equally filthy kiss.

Steve is panting loudly by the time Bucky can feel him gathering himself, bracing one hand on Bucky’s flesh shoulder. “You okay?”

In response, the brunet bucks his hips, pulling a surprised yelp from the blond and pushing him a few inches into the air. Steve lets gravity do its work the first time, sliding him deliciously back down Bucky’s cock, but then the kid gloves come off. He grins, sharp and feral, and rises up until only the head of Bucky’s dick is still in him. Then he slams himself down hard and doesn’t stop.

 _Fuck_ he’s stronger than Bucky remembers. Maybe it’s a memory from the serum, or maybe just because Steve can actually draw a full breath, but the rusty springs are singing with every thrust and he can hear the bedframe, heavy as it is, start to slide on the floor. Steve keeps his promise, riding Bucky fast and rough, grinding down every so often, brows creased and mouth slightly open in pleasure. Bucky looks up at him, awed and loving the way Steve takes what he wants with no remorse. Bucky is more than happy to give it to him.

As though he can hear his thoughts, Steve cracks one eyelid open to give Bucky a breathless grin. “Just gonna lie there and make me do all the work?”

“Thought you wanted to ride me?” Bucky gasps. It’s not the cool delivery he was aiming for, but he thinks he can be forgiven when Steve pulses around him deliberately, tight and hot and wet.

“Give it to me,” Steve snarls. He reaches up and grabs one of the metal bars of the headboard, using his new leverage to shove himself down violently. Bucky snaps at the ferocity of it. His hands come up to grip Steve’s slender waist, hard enough to bruise, and he snaps his hips with as much force as he can manage. It pushes the breath right out of Steve’s body, and then it’s almost a competition on who can thrust harder, moan louder, please the other best. Steve pulls out all the stops, taking a fistful of Bucky’s hair to direct a messy kiss, making up with enthusiasm what it lacks in finesse. He keeps one hand on the headboard and his knees clamp tight around Bucky, tightening him up and adding force every time he takes Bucky’s cock.

Bucky, in turn, uses every trick he remembers, and some he makes up on the spot. He struggles until he’s sitting partway up and hooks his arms behind Steve, hands on his shoulders, and pulls down hard enough that he can feel the strain in his muscles. Steve’s eyes roll back in his head and he loses control over his limbs, babbling nonsense as his cock pulses.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Bucky, I—” Steve erupts between the two of them, back arching, tendons in his neck snapping taut, voice forced into silence for that one glorious moment before he comes, hot seed splashing up both their torsos. Bucky eagerly drinks in the sight of Steve losing all control, branding it once more into his memory. He slows his thrusts and his hand, still moving to wring every drop of pleasure he can from Steve but not wanting to hurt him either. When Steve twitches and bats his hand away, Bucky lets go of his cock gingerly. Hesitantly, because he doesn’t really remember if he likes this, he lifts his hand to his mouth and licks up a bit of Steve’s come.

“Oh my God, you’re going to kill me,” Steve croaks, watching him blearily.

Turns out Bucky doesn’t mind the taste or the texture, and he _loves_ the expression Steve makes when he licks up the white fluid. Steve moves in for another kiss, licking his own taste right out of Bucky’s mouth.

“My turn?” Bucky’s dick hurts from holding still; from waiting to make sure Steve is all right.

“However you like it,” Steve agrees. He’s relaxed and pliant now, and Bucky rolls them until Steve is on his back and Bucky is hovering over him. It makes Steve blush for some reason, all coy shyness where he was avid energy before. Bucky noses the sweaty hair at his temple and smiles.

“You always did like this best.”

“Not very creative of me, huh?” Bucky teases. He starts up a pace that’s slower but no less urgent than before, grinding deep when he bottom out, relishing the feel of Steve trying to keep him there even while his body tries to relax.

“You told me you liked to look at me when…” Steve whispers between them like a secret.

“I do,” Bucky whispers back. Pleasure crawls up his spine, spreading fast now that he’s been worked to the edge.

“Stay,” Steve begs. He hooks his ankles behind Bucky’s back, anchoring him in his lover.

Bucky comes like that, buried deep inside of Steve, moaning into a messy kiss. He can feel Steve’s arms tighten around him, can feel his tight channel constricting like it wants to keep all his come deep inside. Bucky chokes on a breath, hips stuttering as the pleasure trails off and he floats back down to earth.

He’s just as reluctant to pull out of Steve as the blond seems to let him go, but the sticky mess between them and his softening prick conspire to drive him off long enough to find a wet cloth to clean up with. Steve lets him do the work, blinking lazily before dragging the covers back and tugging Bucky into the bed, tossing the cloth to the floor somewhere and declaring them clean enough.

“I love you,” Bucky murmurs. They used to be so careful about saying it, covering it up with things like ‘not without you’ or ‘til the end of the line.’ It always seemed too dangerous to voice, like saying it once might out them, or like they wouldn’t be able to stop if it reached the open air. It was a stupid way to feel, he thinks now, but it didn’t make it less real at the time. It’s never too late to change, he’s learned. So he says it again: “I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you, too,” Steve says into his chest. Bucky can feel him smile, and when he looks down blue eyes glitter up at him happily. “Jesus do I love you.”

Bucky trails his hand up and down Steve’s arm rhythmically, feeling their breaths and heartbeats sync up slowly. He smiles to himself, feeling at peace for the first time in seventy years.

Steve’s jaw cracks with a yawn, which prompts Bucky to yawn, too.

“I’m sleepy,” Steve mutters. His voice says it might as well be a death sentence. Bucky holds him tight.

“Shh. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then you can come back.”

“You don’t know that, either.”

Bucky blinks back tears. It’s true—if nothing else, he knows that ‘highly experimental’ usually equates to ‘terribly unpredictable.’ But when one of them falters, the other picks up the slack. It’s just how they work. And Steve is feeling threatened, so it’s Bucky’s turn to be strong and sheltering, just like when Sarah died. “You’re a stubborn punk, Stevie. Either you’ll bother them all into figuring out how to wake me up safely, or you’ll just glare whatever machine they’ve got you hooked up to into working again. I ain’t worried.” When Steve turns his face up to glare at him, Bucky laughs. “ _There_ it is. Patented Captain America glare, guaranteed to straighten your spine and rally the troops.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Steve warns. But he yawns again and settles more comfortably against Bucky’s side. More quietly, he adds, “But I appreciate it anyway.”

Bucky can feel his own eyelids growing heavy. “Glad to hear it, punk.”

“Jerk.”

“A jerk you love.”

He can feel Steve’s mouth quirk up into a grin. “Yeah, I do.”

* * *

Steve opens his eyes to a sterile, white ceiling and the slightly metallic scent over-filtered air. The bed is plush under his body and the sheets silk-smooth under his fingertips. When he looks to the side, T’Challa nods at him and stands.

The king closes the door gently behind him, leaving Steve alone with his memories and his tears.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated and make me smile, which is kind of a big deal lately.
> 
> Watch me not understand Tumblr @sablessx


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